Meeting my friend's boss. Part I

Walking to the office I think to my wrinkles. Each and every one talking about my story, about me. At 52 I can say I don’t have many wrinkles, but some. Especially around my mouth. I hate those because I can’t apply lipstick anymore. I’ve always loved a bright red lipstick. And I think about my body. I’ve never loved my body and I’ve never taken care of it. Nobody ever taught me to love my body.

I’m learning now how important my body is. I can’t say it’s too late but for sure it’s harder. I’m lucky because even if I’m overweight, way over, I still have all my shapes. Not like some of the women I see around. But still, my butt is big, and not attractive. Or so I thought.

And my belly. I hate it. No matter how often I hit the gym, that belly, that hosted my four children, is always too big.

During my walk I look around. I love to watch people and imagine their stories. I see couples holding hands and dream. If only!

I was waiting at the light to cross the street holding two coffee mugs. Over there I see the corner where I turn and I know Bill, the guard, will be there welcoming all the employees with his bright smile. I always buy a coffee for him. It makes me happy.

Lots of people are around me waiting for the green light, and I hear somebody behind me making a sound like a purr.

What’s that? I look around and find Ian behind me sneering. Ian is Abby’s boss. Abby is the best of the friends. Her office is right in front of my store and we usually have lunch together.

Few weeks ago, during one of our lunch talking about girls’ matters (sex mostly), Ian approached and Abby introduced us. He’s a hunk even at his age. He’s 54 (I’ve asked Abby, that’s how I know). I occasionally see him arriving or leaving the office when I pay attention to the outside. My store is in Michigan Avenue and with its large window I can see all the people walking back and forth. Chicagoans and tourists.  

“Good morning Mr. Donahue! How are you doing? It’s warming up. Do you like it? I love the warm weather!”

He doesn’t know why I love the warm spring: it’s because I can take off all the layers of clothes Chicago’s winter force me to wear.

“Good morning Mrs. Lacey. Oh, I like it just right! The view is amazing. Is this coffee for me?” he asks pointing at my two mugs.

“I’m sorry sir, I don’t know your favorite. One is for me and the other is for Bill, the guard of the building beside my store”

In the meantime, the light turns green and we start walking together.

“Do you mind call me Ian? I don’t like the formalities”

“Sure, and I’m Lily”

“Are you going to lunch with Abby today?”

“Nope: she has a doctor appointment, so I’ll stay in the BOH and have lunch with the bakers”

“Have you ever had lunch at Eataly on Ohio Street?”

“No. It’s way too expansive.”

“At what time you have your break?”

“Noon”

“I’ll be there at 12:05. See you then. I can’t wait!”

And so he leaves, waving with a hand and that grin on his face. Without asking if I wanted to have lunch with him or not. I stay there, looking at his amazing ass and thinking. I’m speechless. And believe me it’s not easy!

My morning went smoothly, always checking the building in front of my window. A new sensation on my stomach and wetness on my panties.

 I’ve got a text from Abby saying she’s sorry to leave me alone. I’m not telling her of the change of plans. I prefer to wait and see how it goes.

11:58 and I’m ready. The door in the front building is opening. It’s not him. 11:59. Nothing. 12:04. Here he comes! I pretend to not be looking. I don’t want him to think I’m impatient.

“Twelve-O-Five. Ready?”

Oh yes! “Sure. Let me clock out”

We are walking side by side. And then he turns left.

“This is Grand, not Ohio”

“Do you trust me?”

It’s myself I don’t trust, I want to say. “Yes Sir”

He looks at me with a mischievous grin. I’m lost in lust. My panties are dripping wet.

Suddenly he stops, takes a key-chain from his pocket and open a big wooden door.

I don’t know what to do.

I want to go in with him. I really do. I want to be taken. I want him to touch my pussy and make me cum with his fingers.

But there is the other part of me, the conscious one, that stops me.

 

What do you think is going to happen?

Who is she going to listen? The little brat that wants to enjoy the moment, whatever it will be? Or the conscious soul who wants her to always do the right thing?



 

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